


Bad Dreams

by Lady Divine (fhartz91)



Series: He Was My Almost [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Angst, Anxiety, Dalton Academy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Skank Kurt Hummel, mention of bullying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 20:50:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2887424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/Lady%20Divine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian Smythe isn’t getting any sleep now that new transfer student Kurt Hummel is banging on his wall every night. One evening, Sebastian goes to Kurt’s room to find out why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I wrote this for the Kurtbastian Hiatus Project prompt ‘skank AU’ way back when but I didn’t like it enough to post it. But, here it goes.
> 
> Dalton AU. Skank!Kurt. Warning for anxiety, mention of nightmares and mention of bullying.

_Bang!_

_…_

_Bang-bang!_

_…_

_Bang-bang, thump!_

_…_

Sebastian rolls over in his bed, flailing so hard in the process of throwing his mini-tantrum that he nearly flies off of his bed entirely. He grabs his pillow in a clawed hand and shoves it over his head, clamping down over his ears until all he hears is the mad rush of his blood pumping through his veins. The pillow barricade over his head blocks out most sound, but that doesn’t help when the next _thud_ , right by his head, vibrates the plaster. Sebastian glares at the wall, which shakes again with another violent _thud_. What the hell is the point of his parents springing extra for him to have a private room if the walls are paper thin and his next door neighbor is an inconsiderate asshole?

Of course, Sebastian didn’t have these problems until _he_ moved in.

Kurt Hummel.

Mid-semester transfer student and the most ridiculously exaggerated example of an overused stereotype Sebastian has ever seen – green streaked hair, leather jacket, combat boots, and more facial piercings than socially acceptable or humanly advisable (though Sebastian has to admit, the one through Kurt’s tongue caught his attention right away. Sebastian knows one other boy in school with a tongue piercing – Jeff Sterling – and his boyfriend Nick Duval is always yammering on about how much it has improved Jeff’s _oral_ technique. Sebastian has a hankering to give it a try and see what all the fuss is about, but Nick doesn’t believe in sharing.)

But otherwise, and again, what is the point of having enough money to go to a private school if the administration is just going to let every boy in off of the streets?

Before he knew it, they’d be letting _girls_ in next.

The next _thump_ on the wall knocks a few books off a nearby shelf, one tumbling his way and nearly clipping him on the crown of the head.

“Ugh!” Sebastian groans, flinging the covers off his body in a tangled heap and tossing them to the floor. “That’s it!”

Sebastian stumbles to his feet, his head swimming from not waking up enough to negotiate being upright and from standing way too fast. He doesn’t waste time looking for his slippers, barreling on unsteady legs through the dark, out of his room, and down the hall. He wouldn’t normally give a boy like Kurt a precious second of his time, but Kurt had already bounced from room to room seven times in the few weeks since he’d been at Dalton, and now Sebastian knows why. Sebastian had wanted to file a grievance with the administration after that first night and be done with it, but apparently Hummel is some sort of hard luck case, which Sebastian doesn’t understand since his father is supposedly a congressman – newly elected, but still. Sebastian tried complaining to the assistant dean of students, but he gave Sebastian an insincere smile and told him to give it a couple of days.

Three nights straight of next to no sleep has driven Sebastian to take the matter of Kurt Hummel into his own hands. He is going to march to that boy’s room, pound on his door, and tell him in no uncertain terms exactly how things are going to go from now own – congressman’s son or not.

Sebastian hears _thump-thumping_ the whole way down the hall, all the way up to Kurt’s door. There are no lights on in the room – at least, nothing Sebastian can see from the crack underneath the door – so he can’t imagine what on earth Kurt’s doing in there. Maybe he’s just hitting the wall, viciously keeping Sebastian awake in the hopes of making him fail his French final. (Even though there’s absolutely no way that would happen, it still burns Sebastian thinking that this boy has nothing better to do with his life than to try and sabotage him.)

Sebastian knocks – not in the door shattering way he had planned to knock, but loud enough to be heard. He waits, but there’s nothing, no sound of acknowledgment whatsoever, nothing but the same erratic banging that woke Sebastian up originally, and he suspects that whatever Kurt is doing, he’s doing it in his sleep.

Sebastian thought he’d have to pick the lock – not a huge deal since Dalton locks are notoriously easy to pick – but Kurt’s door is, for some reason, unlocked. Sebastian turns the knob and lets the door swing in, bracing himself in case Kurt leaps out at him in the dark. When he isn’t tackled to the ground, Sebastian walks inside. Since his eyes are adjusted to the low light, he sees Kurt right away, wrestling around on his bed, tossing in his sleep. Sebastian stands at Kurt’s bedside and gets a better look at the boy, fully dressed in jeans, a hoodie, and his black boots, kicking off his blankets, punching his pillow, a non-stop dervish of movement.

 _“Who in the holy fuck goes to bed wearing combat boots?”_ Sebastian thinks, grimacing as the filthy soles of Kurt’s shoes scrape against his clean white sheets.

Sebastian’s mind clears as he starts to wake more and he has a fleeting memory of rumors traveling around the Warblers of how Kurt was transferred from some kind of hardcore reform school. He had come to Dalton to escape being bullied or something. Sebastian had stopped listening after he heard the words _reform school_. More and more of the population of Dalton’s student body were ex-reform school students and public school escapees. In a few years, a distinguished academy for higher learning that had once been known as a breeding ground for future politicians, lawyers, and presidents will become a refuge for every battered and bullied wimp in the state of Ohio.

Well, there goes the neighborhood. Sebastian can only thank the powers that be that he’ll have graduated and be long gone before that happens. Good luck getting any alumnus donations from him after that.

But seeing Kurt fully dressed and wearing his shoes to bed makes Sebastian stop and think – did the bullies go into his room at night? Did they pull him out of bed and beat him up? On the few times that he saw Kurt without his sweater (Kurt mostly managed to keep it on, uniform policy be damned) Sebastian had noticed the fading indigo shadows of old bruises marking Kurt’s pale skin around his throat, around his wrists, on his hands...

So maybe Kurt is a delinquent and a coward, but no one deserves that kind of abuse.

Kurt starts punching his pillow in earnest, then turns his attention towards the wall, pounding his fist into the plaster until his knuckles start to bleed.

“Kurt,” Sebastian says, shaking his shoulder gently. “Kurt, wake up.” Kurt wrenches his arm away, fist pounding at the wall harder. He starts to whimper, but from the nightmares or the pain, Sebastian doesn’t know. “Kurt!” Sebastian says sharply, grabbing Kurt by both shoulders and giving him a good shake. Kurt spins around in his bed and Sebastian dodges, narrowly avoiding the fist that flies at his face.

“Hey, reject!” Sebastian yells. “Watch where you’re swinging!”

“What the…” Kurt’s eyes snap open and he sits up, scooting backward on the bed till his back hits the wall. “What the fuck?” His eyes focus on Sebastian’s face, narrow blue irises glowing in the thin stream of moonlight not obscured by the partially closed blinds. “What are you doing in my room, loser?”

Sebastian stares down at Kurt, huddled against the wall, glaring back at him with a furious gaze.

“Well, your incessant beating up my wall woke me, so I thought I’d come in here and invite you to tea,” Sebastian snaps.

Kurt looks around him, in a daze, and shakes his head, erasing the anxiety of the last few hours.

“Well, I’m awake now,” Kurt says, pulling off his hood and running a shaking hand through sweaty hair. His eyes focus on the clock on his nightstand, bright blue LEDs burning the time 2:37 A.M. into his retinas.

“Shit,” Kurt says, blinking his eyes and checking the time once more.

Sebastian watches, his presence seemingly forgotten. He should be annoyed, but he’s more concerned.

“So, you have nightmares?” Sebastian asks, going for nonchalant and appropriately irritated so that Kurt doesn’t get the wrong idea.

Kurt doesn’t look at him, but scoffs at his question.

“You must be the brightest in your class,” he says, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

Sebastian almost balks. He doesn’t like being mocked, but when he looks at Kurt, he doesn’t see the snarky, standoffish, cliché thug he tries so hard to be. He sees the boy who, moments ago, was fighting with his pillow and whimpering in his sleep.

“Did you want to talk about it?” Sebastian asks, partly hoping that Kurt will say no and Sebastian can be done with him, though that part is rapidly shrinking away.

Kurt looks at Sebastian, his eyelids narrowing, trying to figure him out, but then deciding not to bother.

“No,” he says in a clipped tone, and there it is – the answer that Sebastian wanted. Now he’s free to leave.

So how come he doesn’t just go?

“Do you…” Sebastian wants to bite his own tongue out, but he feels compelled for some God-awful reason to ask, “do you want me to stay with you? You know, until you fall asleep?”

Kurt’s eyes open wide, his face contorting with defiance, embarrassment, and a touch of confusion.

“I’m not five, Smythe,” Kurt spits out gruffly. “I don’t need someone to hold my hand - _especially_ not you. I know you’re not here because you actually give a shit, so why don’t you just go the fuck back to your own bedroom and leave me alone?”

Sebastian’s blood boils. _The nerve of that obnoxious little shit!_

“You know what - fine,” Sebastian says, kicking Kurt’s mattress. “I’m trying to be a nice guy here, which by the way, I’m not. But if you’re going to be an uptight asshole…”

“So, this is you’re nice guy act?” Kurt interrupts with a huff, turning on his side to face the wall. “Sweet.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian says. “It is, and now it’s over, so fuck you very much and good-bye.”

Sebastian turns to leave. What was he even thinking, trying to talk to that degenerate, showing him a little sympathy? Well, if he doesn’t want sympathy, or friendship, or human interaction, than so fucking be it. He isn’t worth Sebastian’s time.

That’s what Sebastian says to himself, and he is dead-set on sticking to it, until a single sniffle breaks through his stubborn anger and weeds into his conscience. He stops at the door, physically unable to move any further, hand hovering in the air, reaching for the doorknob.

 _“Just a bit more,”_ he thinks, picturing his hand turning the knob, his legs carrying him out the door and back to his room where he’ll get maybe three hours of uninterrupted sleep _if_ he’s lucky. Another sniffle drops his hand from the knob. A third makes him turn around.

“Fuck fuck _fuck_!” Sebastian groans, heading back to Kurt’s bed. Kurt hears Sebastian’s footsteps pad across the floor and Kurt rolls over to meet him.

“You lost, Smythe?” Kurt asks. “Door’s that way.”

“Shut up and go to sleep, Hummel.”

“Not until you leave,” Kurt hisses. He kicks out with his leg to force Sebastian off, but Sebastian has no intention of leaving.

“Ain’t happening,” Sebastian says, batting the oncoming boot away. “If I leave here, you start beating down my wall again, and I don’t get any sleep anyway, so the only thing I can do is sit here till you fall asleep.” Sebastian drops down onto Kurt’s bed and glares into Kurt’s eyes. “So go to sleep already!”

Kurt growls, searching for a comeback, but he’s too tired to argue. Besides, he would never admit it to Sebastian, but he kind of likes someone looking after his back. It makes him feel more at ease. His stepmom did it the few days he was at home before his father had him enrolled at Dalton, and they were the best nights of sleep he’d had. He pulls his hood back up and falls onto his pillow, facing the wall again. He closes his eyes and pictures Sebastian, sitting on the edge of his bed, staring down at him, and he smiles, knowing that either way Sebastian isn’t getting a wink of sleep.

Kurt drifts off with thoughts of all the other, less G-rated ways that he’d like to have a fine ass like Sebastian’s in bed with him other than holding vigil.

Kurt blinks his eyes open when sunlight touches his face. For the first time since he had moved to Dalton, Kurt had slept through the night – or what was left of it – and he knew why.

Sebastian Smythe.

Kurt shakes his head and groans. It was a necessary evil, but why Sebastian would even agree to it, not to mention suggest it, was beyond Kurt’s grasp. He’d heard a lot about Sebastian when he first arrived on campus, and from the description he got, he had been looking forward to locking horns with the guy.

But Sebastian had actually sat on his bed and watched him sleep. Did that mean that they were going to be friends now?

Kurt would prefer angry sex partners. He didn’t really _do_ friends, not that he really ever had any.

Kurt moves the blanket off of him, making to get up, when he feels a warm body pressed against his back, hears a snuffling breath and a gentle snore.

It seems that Sebastian did more than watch Kurt sleep.

Kurt smiles, enjoying having a boy in his bed again, embracing the feeling of not being alone. He could do a whole helluva lot worse than Sebastian Smythe, so he decides he’ll wait another ten minutes before he throws a fit and kicks his ass out.


End file.
